


God disposes - (The One with Takao's Very Bad Day)

by JulesD (julesdrenages)



Series: Stay [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesdrenages/pseuds/JulesD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kazunari takes a deep breath and tries to recall what exactly had made him think that it would have been a good idea to get out of bed that morning...</p>
            </blockquote>





	God disposes - (The One with Takao's Very Bad Day)

**Author's Note:**

> . Part 3 of the “Stay” series. This one is set several months later (maybe a year) than “Feels like Home”.
> 
> . English hasn't become my first Language yet, so, please, forgive any misspelling. I’ll do my best to fix typos as well.

At luch time, Kazunari takes a deep breath and tries to recall what exactly had made him think that it would have been a good idea to get out of bed that morning. *

He had woken up alone, just like every other morning in the past five days: Shintarou had an important exam the following day, which meant that his sleeping and eating patterns had become so absurd that he didn’t want to impose them on anyone, not even his boyfriend. Kazunari had learned, over the months, that in the seven days before a dreadful exam Shintarou would turn into an unstoppable studying machine fueled by perfectionism and anxiety: he’d spend the days in his room surrounded by notes, books and whatever food Kazunari managed to slip onto his desk when Shintarou went to the bathroom, coming out only at dinner time, to keep Kazunari company while they ate together (though since he was always very focused on the subject he was studying, he usually started muttering obscure, medicine-related terms to himself all through the meal – but Kazunari appreciated the thought all the same). He was excused from dish-washing those days, but Kazunari had imposed him to use that bit of spare time to take a shower. He would then retire to his room again with his lucky mug and a thermos full of coffee, bring out the futon that he kept in the wardrobe and spend the night between mad revising, midnight epiphanies and tormented rest. Kazunari had told him he could join him in their bed at any hour of the night, but Shintarou had declined, claiming that he had Kazunari’s best interest (and sanity) at heart. When Kazunari heard him stumbling awake one night to write down the exact chemical reaction of GodKnowsWhat that had appeared to him in his sleep, he thanked his boyfriend for being so thoughtful.

He’d awoken alone, then, slightly later than he intended to but still on time. He’d pressed his ear to Shintarou’s door and heard the faintest scratches of pencil on paper. He’d given a double, soft knock at the wooden door like it was his custom and Shintarou had mumbled an absent-minded “’morning” in return.

Kazunari had started to question his decision to get up three minutes later, when the half-empty milk carton had slipped from his grip and splashed his appointed breakfast all over his feet and the kitchen floor. By the time he’d fixed the mess and left Shintarou a note about the lack of milk in the house, he was starting to run late for real. Kazunari put on the first clothes he found, brushed his teeth while roughly combing his hair and rushed out of the house with a stale plum-cake in his mouth, hoping that his bag already carried whatever he would need for the day.

*

Five hours later, Kazunari is gulping down his least favourite food at the college canteen. He has arrived late again and the only dishes left by that time were scary looking, foul smelling mushrooms. He’s taken them anyway, because he’s hungry enough to eat his own chair and at least the mushrooms are edible. Maybe.

He stabs the offending vegetables with more force than necessary: it helps relieving his frustration a bit. The first thing he’s learned that morning, as soon as he’s sat down for his first class is that his favourite teacher, the one who’s in charge of his favourite subject, has left for an important business overseas, won’t be back for the rest of the term and has left his assistant in charge of their final project. It wouldn’t be so bad, if the assistant a spineless douche who tends to get jealous of his students’ talent and has the maddening ability of giving opposite answers whenever people ask for his advice, a patronizing look omni-present on his face. Still, Kazunari could have coped with it, but the monster had to deal the final blow by pairing him with his nemesis. Which means that his grade depends on his ability to strike a balance with a pretentious guy whose approach to photography is diametrically opposite to Kazunari’s and whose idea of team-work consists in “I decide, you agree”. Kazunari has, in fact, spent the last couple of hours in said nemesis’ company, trying to come up with a plan that would save his project, his grade, his sanity and his criminal record, because the prospect of murdering that guy starts to sound reasonable.

As he swallows the last mouthful of cold mushrooms and gets up, a fellow student (one that he’s actually friends with) comes to tell him there’s been a change in their schedule and their practical lesson (planned for the upcoming Monday) is starting in less than twenty minutes. Kazunari groans, because he’s been carrying several pounds of useless books around for nothing and and doesn’t have his camera: few people actually do, since it was unexpected, which means he’ll have to fight with half of his course for one of the college ones. Judging from the time, he doubts he’ll get a good one.

*

The main trouble with the practical lesson is that is long, longer than the classes today were supposed to be, and there’s no way to tell when it’s going to end. In between changes of lights and models, interviews with the professionals that have come to teach them tricks and talk about their experience and actual shooting, he sends a message to Shintarou: the official excuse is that he needs to tell him he’s going to be late and to not worry about it, but it’s a good chance to relieve some stress, bitch about his hell of a day and whine a bit. Shintarou’s too focused onto his studying to pay attention to the unnecessary details anyway.

*

When he’s able to call it a day, he has completed only half of the work he was supposed to do, because the junk of a camera he’d been using literally exploded in his hands and there had been no way to make it work properly afterwards. If anything, the teacher had taken pity of him and allowed Kazunari to repeat the practical lesson and turn in the complete assignment the following week, without consequences. It’s a lot of work to do, though, that adds to the already heavy pile that’s waiting for him on his desk. As he exits the building, mumbling to himself all the things he has to do to not fail his classes, a loud thunder roars above his head and rain starts pouring down like a waterfall. Of course, in his morning haste, kazunari has not checked the weather forecast. Of course, the k-way he keeps in his bag for this kind of emergencies is still drying in the shower. Of course, he has not brought the umbrella. Not that he could use the umbrella while riding his bike, anyway. Wait. … _where is his bicycle?_

*

\- They’ve stolen your bike?!

Kazunari has kept in touch with some of his former classmates from high-school and two of them attends university S as well, so it was pretty common for them to meet at campus. Today, they have literally stumbled on him while he was standing, frozen, right where his bicycle should have been. They’d offered him one of their umbrellas and dragged him to the coffee shop on the other side of the street.

-          I left it right there in my usual spot! I chained it like I always do! And it’s gone! It’s not even a good bike! It’s old and rusty and ugly! Who would even want to go through the trouble fo stealing it!?

Kazunari had started to feel hopeless. His clothes were wet. His bag was wet. He’d only managed to save his books and notes and wallet by wrapping them in a spare plastic bag he’d found at the bottom of a hidden pocket. Thank the gods for that small bead of mercy.

He sips at the hot tea his friends have ordered for him and warms up a bit, still upset over his lost bike because not only he’s attached to that crappy thing, he actually needs it and can’t really afford another one right now. He suddenly remembers, then, that he’s in charge of dinner, that it’s awfuly late and that the fridge and cupboard are almost empty apart from some istant ramen and he’d thought to stop by the grocery store on the way home. Except that it’s already dark outside and the rain is not going to stop anytime soon, not to mention that now he doesn’t even have his bike’s basket to carry the heavy stuff. He fishes the phone out of his pocket and sends another text to Shintarou, briefly explaining the situation and telling him not to wait for Kazunari for dinner. The unexpected reply is an enigmatic “Leave it to me” that Kazunari doesn’t want to study in deep. The prospect of pre-cooked noodles for the third night in a row, eaten at a lonely table at an un-godly hour makes him a bit sick.

-          Bad news from your girlfriend?

He does a double-take at the question and laughs a bit too nervously; luckily, they don’t notice. Right. He’s supposed to have girlfriends.

-          As if! Nah… just telling my roommate that he’s in charge of dinner tonight.

It’s not the exact truth, but he doesn’t really want to explain himself or Shin-chan’s Pre-Exam-Syndrome, either. Turns out it’s the right move:

-          Say, Takao-kun, is it really true that you’re living with Midorima-kun, now?

They’re not boasting ita round, but it’s not like it’s a secret.

-          We share the apartment, yes. Why?

He doesn’t expect them to be so genuinely surprised.

-          Whoa! _Really_? As, for _real_!? Man, you really _are_ a saint after all!

He’s not sure he likes where the conversation is going and he’s not sure he has enough patience to handle this in the right way. For now, he forces a chuckle and tries:

-          Why would you say that?

-          Man, he’s a weirdo if I ever saw one. I saw some of your matches in high-school, hands down for those shots, really smart too, I was told…

-          He goes to university T. He’s studying medicine.

-          …yeah,good for him. Though, I was saying, I’ve never really got over how much of a freak he was.

Kazunari swallows more tea even if it burns his tongue.

-          I mean, he bossed you around all the time? Wasn’t it enough? Do you have to be his butler now or what?

Since when his old classmate has become such a _douche_? Speaking of good surprises. The other must sense the tension too, because he butts in trying to ease it:

-          Don’t be rude. Forgive him, Takao-kun, he’s just expressing his concern for you. What he means to say is that you don’t have to feel ike you’re trapped with that guy. You don’t owe him anything, you know? It has already been kind enough of you to put up with him all through high-school, you don’t really have to do this, now.

…though he fails miserably. Kazunari slams the tea cup on the table, snarls a sarcastic ‘ _Thank you for the tea_ ’, doesn’t add a ‘ _See you around_ ’, because he’s making sure he won’t run into either of them anytime in the future and literally runs outside, ignoring their startled calls. He heads home, welcoming the rain and hoping it will help him to cool down and wondering if he’s made a mistake in _not_ punching both of those jerks into oblivion.

*

When he stops at their door he’s in a foul mood, dripping water all over the stairs, freezing. For an awful bunch of seconds he’s mad at Shintarou as well, for locking himself inside and not even bothering sending a text or offering to bring him an umbrella. Then he remembers that the wind outside is awfully strong, so much that if his boyfriend had, indeed, tried to pick him up, they would have both go back thoroughly soaked and without umbrellas. Also, Shintarou really has to study. And Kazunari is not sure that he has actually told Shintarou that he’s forgotten both his umbrella and k-way home. He sighs, because he’s absolutely exhausted and really, the only thing he wants right now is some peace and, possibly, see Shintarou’s face. He enters their apartment with the idea of knocking on his boyfriend’s door to say hi, take a hot, hot, hot shower, pull together an edible dinner with whatever Shintarou has left and crash on the bed. Possibly without speaking.

He doesn’t immediately realize that the lights are already on in the kitchen and living room, that the place is warmer than he expected it to be and that there’s a very good smell coming from the stove. He doesn’t notice anything until he leans on the wall to take his shoes off and his hand brushes against a sheet of white paper attached to it with tape. There are words there: ‘ _wet clothes here_ ’, followed by an arrow pointing downwards at their laundry basket, the one that usually stays in the bathroom. Beside the first piece of paper there’s a similar one that says ‘ _Put these on’_ and another arrow that leads you to the turned on heater nearby, on which is draped his orange bathrobe, along with a pair of fuzzy socks and his favourite slippers.

He’s trying to process the meaning of all that when a Shintarou’s voice and quick steps come from the corridor:

-          Kazu, is that you? Welcome back!

-          Y-Yeah, I’m back-

The words kind of die in his troath as Shintarou appears wearing what looks very much like his “Snog the Cook” apron and holding a big towel; his eyes widen as he tooks in Kazunari’s miserable appereance.

-          What have you _done_? I supposed you would get a bit wet but you’re drenched!

-          It’s a long story. Really.

-          Take those clothes off. Quick. You’ll get sick!

Perhaps it’s for the best that Kazunari is numb from tiredness and, otherwise he’d hardly let Shintarou strip him in the hallway like a child and wrap him in the warmed bathrobe (feet recovering their sensitivity thanks to the socks and slippers) and toweling his hair with the equally warm cloth he was sporting a moment before. As the heat works his magic and his boyfriend’s fingers do miracles on his scalp and neck, Kazunari starts to reason again and the weight of the day is very heavy on his shoulders. He leans forward until his forehead touches Shintarou’s chest and he can hug his waist. Shintarou’s hands still on his shoulder blade and on the small of his back. He whispers above him:

-          Your texts were a bit vague. What happened today?

Kazunari holds him tighter:

-          I don’t want to talk about it. – he says as Shintarou draws soothing circles on his back and he starts spilling his misadventures without leaving out a single detail.

*

When he has reported everything, even the petty insinuations of their former classmates, and goes silent, Shintarou kisses the top of his head through the towel, apparently unfazed by the insults that has been directed towards his person, and says:

-          Go take a bath. Your pajamas is already there and the soup is almost ready. Want me to wash your hair?

Kazunari shakes his head, because he’s just made Shintarou lose enough time, and softly pads to the bathroom wondering what soup his boyfriend was talking about.

When he comes out of the shower, warm and clean and lighter in every way possible, Shintarou is not hunched over his desk in his room as usual: he’s in the kitchen, instead, filling their bowls with a steaming soup of vegetables that has nothing to do with Takao’s first idea of pre-cooked ramen. He’s about to ask Shintarou where on earth has he ordered that because it looks delicious and _how come they’ve never heard of that place before?_ , when he notices the band-aids (three, to be precise) on his right hand. They weren’t there the night before and their position is unmistakable.

-          _Did you make it_?

Shintarou places the bowls on the table, beside the rice he’d already laid out and unties the apron.

-          You said you were going to be late. I was tired of take out. And that pre-cooked ramen is alright for emergencies but frankly, it sucks.

-          But the vegetables… there wasn’t…

-          I bought some at lunch time. After you text-… During my study break. Since I was already out, I re-stocked the cupboard. I spent our appointed weekly amount but I’ve managed to buy a lot more… there were lots of discounts, did you know?

Kazunari did. He had also told Shintarou that he planned to wake up early the following day, even if it was his day off and he could sleep in, because he wanted to take advantage of those sale. Shintarou seems a bit uncertain as he looks at the table:

-          I followed your mother’s recipe, the one in the notebook. Shall we try it?

Kazunari doesn’t even let him finish and dives in eagerly: some of the vegetables are a bit too crunchy and he would have dosed the spices a bit differently, but he’s not lying when he puts down the bowl after having finished his second round and admits:

-          It’s perfect.

*

After they’ve tidied up the kitchen, Kazunari makes a beeline to the bedroom and his surprised when Shintarou follows him and joins him on the mattress. He knows what his boyfriend’s sacrificing for his sake, and though until now he’s selfishly taken advantage of it, he’s starting to feel a bit guilty.

-          Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?

Shintarou’s shoulders tense, but he keeps petting Kazunari’s hair anyway.

-          Yes, but, you see, I have to take care of my hawk as well. He has come home with his feathers all ruffled tonight, you know… I can’t have that.

It’s sappy, the kind of cheesiness that Kazunari would usually tease him for, but not today. Not right after that two envious bastards have called his boyfriend a freak and arrogant, selfish weirdo. The same boyfriend that has rushed to the supermarket to allow Kazunari to sleep in the following day, that has clearly spent great part of the afternoon chopping vegetables (and his own fingers) to avoid Kazunari another night of unhealthy food, that has put Kazunari’s clothes on the heater after knowing he would have walked under the rain. That has forgone his strict pre-exam revising routine to soothe his upset boyfriend.

Kazunari buries his head in Shintarou’s neck.

-          Why can’t they see it?

-          What?

-          How much you love me. How much I need you.

Shintarou stays silent for a while.

-          Do _you_ see it?

Kazunari doesn’t even have to think about it:

-          All the time.

Shintarou kisses him.

-          Good.

*

The following morning, Kazunari wakes up content and well rested. He’s alone again, but only because Shintarou had to leave very early to catch the right train and arrive on time for the exam.

There’s a note on his pillow, though:

“ _Miyaji-san called. Told me he’s taken your bike yesterday for a not specified emergency. He hasn’t been able to text you until very late in the night. Said it’s a long story and that he’ll tell you at lunch, when he’s bringing the bike back. There was a post scriptum: ‘_ Throw the damn thing away, the saddle is a nightmare! _’. Call him if you want._ ” …what?!

*

Shintarou comes home at the sight of Kazunari practically making out with his returned bicycle, fussing over the hard, worned out saddle and polishing the rusty frame. It doesn’t erase all the misfortunes of the previous day, but it has boosted up his mood, with is just as effective.

There’s a bag of canned pineapples on the table. Miyaji-san must have lost some of his bite.

-          So? How did it go?

Shintarou cocks his head to the side, puzzled.

-          Mh? Top marks, of course.

Kazunari throws him a slipper.

-          Why do I even _bother_ , I swear…

 


End file.
